Free This Enemy Town by Marcia Talley Page B

crushing me to his chest. “And I see I was right.”
    I wormed a hand between us and pushed him away so I could look into his face. “Of course I’m upset, you idiot! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! And if you’re keeping that little secret from me, I can only wonder what else you may have to hide!”
    â€œDon’t start that again, Hannah. I thought we laid that to rest a long, long time ago.”
    â€œI thought we had, too,” I said quietly, remembering the cruise we took to the Virgin Islands that had gone a long way toward mending our damaged relationship. I fell back into my chair, then leaned all the way forward and rested my forehead on my knees. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    Paul wisely kept his distance while I struggled to calm the lurching going on in my stomach.
    â€œBut what is she doing here?” I sputtered, looking up at him through wet lashes. “Tell me she’s just visiting.”
    Paul shook his head. “I wish. But no, she’s stationed here. She’s Twenty-ninth Company officer.”
    â€œHow lucky for them.” I sat in my chair and pouted, barely aware of the Mozart symphony drifting from his radio, the volume set to low. “Why did the Navy send her back? I simply can’t believe it, not after all the trouble she caused, not just for you …” I ticked them off on my fingers. “… but the legal officer, not to mention the supe and the ’dant and the Secretary of the whole damn Navy!”
    As if Paul needed reminding. It had been a nightmare. The press had jumped all over it, of course: NAVAL ACADEMY MID ACCUSES PROFESSOR OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT . The Sun and the Post had had a field day, using the news as an excuse to dredge up every scandal that had taken place at the Naval Academy for the past twenty years, from car theft rings to athletes cheating on exams to a female midshipman being handcuffed to a urinal, with sidebars about similar troubles at the Air Force Academy and West Point thrown in for good measure.
    Paul managed a slight smile. “I don’t know, Hannah. Goodall’s detailer certainly didn’t consult me .” He pulled up his office chair, the rollers squeaking. “The military staff changes every two or three years. You know that, so maybe they didn’t know her history.”
    Paul, a tenured professor, jokingly refers to the Academy’s military staff as “the temporary help,” but I didn’t buy it. “That incident had to be included in her jacket, in her fitness report?”
    Paul swiveled his chair so he could look me in the eyes. “After Goodall dropped the charges against me, the Naval Academy graduated her and sent her off to the fleet. End of story.”
    â€œYou mean she went sailing off with a clean slate?”
    Paul nodded. “Conduct issues that are resolved before graduation don’t become part of an officer’s official record.”
    I thought about Jennifer Goodall’s blue eyes, pouty pink lips, and great big breasts blocking my passage in that narrow hallway. “What a good idea that is.” I crossed my arms across my own, comparatively inadequate chest and scowled at my husband. “Frankly, I was hoping she’d gone to sea and taken a long walk off a short, slippery deck.”
    â€œâ€˜Hard-hearted Hannah—’” Paul started the song, but I cut him off with a glare, thoroughly unamused.
    â€œBut surely somebody at the Academy remembers,” I insisted. “Or,” I said as a new thought occurred to me, “maybe she’s sleeping with her detailer.”
    â€œUnlikely. But perhaps she knows where certain bodies are buried. That makes it easier when you need to call in some favors.”
    We sat in awkward silence while I tried to make sense of the Navy’s stupid-ass decision.
    Paul tried again. “I deal with the students, Hannah, not the company